


It's Raining Cocaine, or at Least That's What They Told Me

by FoodForYourFandom



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Blind Character, Disabled Character, Gen, Physical Disability, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 22:22:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoodForYourFandom/pseuds/FoodForYourFandom
Summary: Reader shares a moment on the roof with their family.





	It's Raining Cocaine, or at Least That's What They Told Me

**Author's Note:**

> What I say: Yes, I've seen Beetlejuice the Musical
> 
> What I mean: I illegally downloaded a bootleg recording of Beetlejuice the Musical onto Google Drive and watched it there
> 
> (I have links hmu on insta @shorty_3456)

The air is cold. Your legs swing back and forth off the edge of the roof, hands bundled up in your coat to stay warm. Wind chills your exposed face and you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Whatcha doin' out here kiddo?" A certain demon asks, and you feel his presence next to you.

"Stargazing." You reply. A few beats of silence pass, and then you both laugh.

"Barb said she's gonna make some hot chocolate. You want any?" He asks after calming down, and you nod. He's quiet for a bit, as if he doesn't know what to say.

"What's it feel like?" He finally asks, tone curious.

"What does what feel like?"

"The cold. I can't really feel it, y'know? The whole 'being dead' thing kinda ruins it."

You think for awhile, trying to put into words what 'cold' would be described as.

"It's like... knives." You answer finally, and you can practically hear the alarms going off in his head.

"It hurts you guys?" He worries, concern pouring out of his very being. You smile softly.

"No, Beej, it doesn't hurt. It's like when someone just... barely runs a blade over your arm, and the goosebumps rise on your skin. Like the chill you get down your spine when you're scared."

"Sounds like it sucks." He muses, and you laugh.

"Alright then," you grin, "tell me what it looks like."

"The cold?"

"The snow that Adam claims fell this morning."

"Looks like cocaine." He mumbles, and you smack his arm lightly.

"C'mon Beej, get serious."

"I am serious!" He exclaims, ruffling your hair and bopping your nose. "And with how red your face is right now, I think you've been snortin' it."

You burst into laughter for the umpteenth time, because _god_ that is such a Beetlejuice thing to say. Said demon drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side as you adjust the front of your bomber jacket to close it tighter around yourself.

"It looks like whatcha imagine clouds look like. It's all white and fluffy 'n shit, piles up and makes a buncha bumps, y'know?"

You snort. "You have such a way with words, Beej."

"Shut it, kiddo."

A grin spreads across your face, and you lean against him.

"Love you Uncle Beej." You yawn, eyes drooping.

A stunned silence follows as he processes your words, and finally he pats your shoulder before letting out a choked "Love ya' too, kiddo."

"Hot cocoa's ready!" Adam interrupts (to Beetlejuice's relief, because he was not going to cry because you called him Uncle, what are you talking about), carefully handing the two of you mugs.

Beetlejuice, as expected, downs his in a single gulp before letting out a satisfied sigh and asking for more.

Barbara drapes a blanket over your legs, and the four of you continue to huddle together, Adam telling a story about woodworking and Beetlejuice pretending to snore. You grip the mug tighter, allowing the warmth to soak into your bones and up through the rest of your body.

Tonight was good.

Something cold lands on your nose, and then more follows. You're not sure what it is until Beetlejuice let's out a cry of "(y/n), look, sky cocaine!" and Adam sighs like a tired parent.

Scratch that; Tonight was great.

**Author's Note:**

> You can pry this musical from my cold, recently deceased hands.


End file.
